I remember very well how labor started with Lara. So I have a fairly good instinctive feeling as to whether or not I need to pay attention to certain labor signs. But the fact that I feel that the lower bones in my pelvis are about to break off make me want to scream "get her out now!" You know, for survival purposes, maybe sooner is better than later. When your stomach gurgles where your rib cage is...when the simple act of standing up makes you feel you deserve the gold medal in gymnastics...I'm not complaining (okay, yes, I am), but the truth is, all of this combined makes one think, "Surely there cannot be much more of this in store for me."

Oh, but I have no doubt there is. Another week (could be more) until the due date, so I need to find some activities to keep my mind off impending labor. But it doesn't help seeing gorgeous pictures of old friends' new babies-especially when THAT baby was due only 3 days before me, and THAT baby was due 3 days AFTER mine. Going to 40 weeks is good and healthy, but quite an anguishing feat. By the way, I am about to lose a foot due to water retention.

I would like to never have a scheduled C-section or be induced, because neither of those sound pleasant, but nothing of labor and delivery is pleasant after all. But how handy to be like, "Hey, sis, could you come on over at 10 on Monday morning to watch Lara so I can have a baby?" Run a few last minute errands like one of my friends did-grab some milk and bread, straighten up the house a little, a dab of make-up, a nice stroll to the hospital. Rather, I am sure my labor will start at 3am, wake up a little toddler who won't go back to bed, loads of unclean clothes are spilling forth from the closet, forgot to run the dish washer, cat vomit in the bedroom, Lara has no clean panties, and I never did get around to wiping the chapstick off the wall. "Sorry, sis, I'm too fat to grocery shop but there's at least 3 fish sticks in the freezer, and just mind the pile of mud by the garage door; oh, and you'll need to wash Lara's sheets, she peed through her diaper." She might understand what I am saying through my gritting teeth as I react to a contraction or might not.

So, Dear God, could you just tell me when this is going to happen? Just to make sure I have some milk in the house?